God Gave Me You for the Ups and Downs
by runninginplace
Summary: Quinn Fabray is in an elevator, returning home, when someone charges through the doors at the last second. Her life may never be the same. AU. T for language.


**A/N: Hey all. I got a writing bug this morning and this is what resulted.  
****Quinn and Rachel have never met before, so Glee never happened.  
****This is just a oneshot, though I might consider writing more depending on what you guys think.  
****Anyway, I hope you like it. Drop me a review when you're done.**

**Cheers!**

"Wait! Hold the elevator!"

I look up from my phone to see the elevator doors closing, and through them, a flash of brown hair and an enormous stack of what seems to be wrapped presents.

At the last possible minute, I reach out, throwing my arm in between the doors, halting them in their tracks. The doors slide open again and a petite brunette carrying a mountain of gifts steps into the elevator with me.

The presents are stacked so high they block her face from my vision.

"Which floor?" I ask the pile of boxes.

A pretty face peers round the side of the stack, and it's all I can do to not drop my phone in surprise.

Jesus. It's Rachel Berry. Actress, singer, and Broadway _legend._

Here.

In the elevator.

With me.

"32 please," she says pleasantly, though in a slightly strained tone. I pull myself out of my shocked state and notice her arms shaking slightly from the weight of all the boxes.

32 is my floor, the button already illuminated, so instead I ask, "You need a hand with those? Looks like we're going to the same floor."  
She smiles at me, and I immediately feel two inches taller. The public loves her, and it's not hard to see why.

It's so easy to see how she won all of those Tonys. And Oscars. And, come to think of it, she's got a Grammy or two. The woman just exudes talent.

That smile though…damn.

"Thank you, but some of these are quite delicate. I've got them stacked pretty precisely. I think I'll be fine." She smiles at me again. "I appreciate your offer though."

"No problem" I mumble, scuffing the tip of my sneaker into the carpet.

We stand there in silence for a few moments, the floor numbers above the door getting higher and higher by the second.

_Say something. You're trapped in an elevator with a girl you've had a crush on since you were sixteen, and you're just standing there like a damn fool._

I open my mouth, not even really sure what I'm going to ask her, when the elevator jerks sharply, throwing us both sideways.

There's a loud screeching noise for a few seconds, then total silence.

The elevator has come to a halt. We look at each other briefly. Miraculously, she has managed to keep all of the presents in their place.

"What the hell was that?" I ask.

"I don't know" she replies. I follow her gaze to the floor number on the display. 27. _Well. That's not right_. I turn my attention to the panel of buttons, pushing the "Open Door" button sharply with my thumb.  
Nothing.

I try again, a few more times, in quick succession.

Still nothing.

I eye the EMERGENCY button warily, debating whether or not to press it. From a young age, my father instilled in me an unshakable regard for the rules. Among these was "Never _ever_ misuse emergency services." I was always uncertain as to what qualified as an emergency, not wanting to make a mistake and get yelled at, so I just avoided emergency services whenever possible. Even today, I always feel as if I'll get in trouble for merely touching the thing. The same went for fire alarms. I'm fairly certain that if I ever experienced a fire, I would end up burning to death deliberating over whether or not to pull the alarm.

Rational Quinn steps in at this point, making me realize how ridiculous I'm being. This is as much of an emergency as one gets in an elevator. I jab my thumb into the emergency call button. It lights up, but there is no immediate answer.

Two minutes go by.

Still not a word.

I run a hand through my shaggy blonde hair, a few strands falling gently back down to frame my face. This is not how I had pictured my afternoon going. I was returning to my apartment from a run, after which I had planned to shower and try out a new recipe my grandmother had sent me. I spend more afternoons than I care to admit cooking and singing to myself. I like cooking. It relaxes me.

Instead, I was stuck in a broken down elevator with Rachel Berry.

Oh.

Right.

Rachel Berry.

I glanced over at her, noticing the stress on her face at the load she was carrying. Her arms had visibly started to shake now. I clear my throat.

"Here," I said, holding out my arms, "Let me take a few of those. Looks like we might be here a while."  
She doesn't say anything this time, simply moves towards me, extending her arms. I grab a package right from the middle of the stack, and lift up, taking everything above it with me. I turn slightly and stoop to the ground, setting the pile gently on the floor. I notice her do the same with her pile. She still has not said a word, and although the load is gone from her arms, I notice her face still looks incredibly tense. Just as I am about to ask if she is okay, there is a loud beep and a voice comes from the wall panel.

"Uh..hello... Anybody there?" The voice is male, and the words come through in a slow drawl. I immediately get an incredibly strong feeling he's either high or has no idea what he's doing. Could be both.

"Yes, hi." I respond. "We're trapped in one of your elevators and it's broken down."

"Huh…" the elevator guy responds. "Well…that sucks."

I roll my eyes at his unhelpfulness. "Yes. It does. Can you send someone to fix it please?"

A pause. "Someone to fix it…yeah."

"…Soon?"

Another pause. "Uhh…no can do, lady." He replies. "Looks like all our repair teams are in other places in the city. You're gonna have to wait."

I sigh. "And there's no way we can speed this up?"

"Uhhhh…nah. Don't think so."

I glance over at Rachel Berry, who is watching our conversation intently, rocking gently back and forth on her toes. I get an idea.  
"Man, are you sure? We've actually got a celebrity in here. I'm sure your boss wouldn't like for you to keep a famous person waiting, right?"

I hear the interest in his voice as he responds, "Really? Who?"

"Rachel Berry.

He sounds disappointed now. "Never heard of her."

I sigh again. "Really? Nothing? _Funny Girl? Spring Awakening?_" I realize that I'm appealing to entirely the wrong audience here. I glance at Rachel for assistance.

"_You're the Only One_", she supplies, naming her hit single that has topped all the charts and been on every radio station for the past few weeks.

Immediately, I hear his voice perk up again. "Dude, really? That's so awesome. Tell her she's smokin' hot."

I glance at Rachel again, eyebrow raised. "Will do." I respond. "Now, do you think we could speed up that repair team?"

"Fraid not." He replies, and this time I hear genuine regret in his voice. "Everyone's doing really big jobs. Closest team is in Brooklyn and they'll be another hour."

I sigh in defeat.  
"Fine. Let us know when they get here."

"Gotcha."

The light blinks out as the line goes dead. I lean my back against the wall and slowly slide to the floor. I look at Rachel Berry and shrug my shoulders. "Well. I tried." I say.  
She gives me a half smile as she too, slides to the floor on the wall opposite mine, crossing her legs because she's in a skirt. Again I notice the furrowed brow and the hunched shoulders. Something's definitely bothering her. I don't want to pry, but then I realize I'm going to be in an elevator with this woman for the next hour.

_Fuck it. It's not like I'm ever going to see her again._

"Hey," I say quietly. "Are you okay? You look…upset. You going to be late or something?"

She looks up at me and replies, "No, I'm fine. Though now that you mention it, I should probably call my cousin and let him know I'll be late with the gifts." She pulls a cell phone out of her purse, unlocks it, and frowns at the screen. "No service." She huffs. I try not to notice how cute she looks when she's irritated. "Can I maybe use yours?"

"Sure thing." I pull my phone out of my pocket and hand it over to her. She glances at my home screen and smiles. It's a picture of me and my puppy, rolling around in the grass. I only just got her a few months ago. She's a chocolate lab pup and she's the love of my life. I named her Chloe.

Unfortunately though, luck is not on our side, as my phone has no service either. As she hands my phone back to me, our fingers accidentally brush. It's just the smallest of touches, but it sends a tingle straight through my arm. I jerk back and clear my throat. She gives me an odd look but doesn't say anything.

As we settle back against our opposing walls, I consider what I know about the woman before me.

Rachel Berry is 22, like me. She became famous at 16, blowing the Broadway world away with her performance in Spring Awakening. My parents, the Manhattan socialites that they were, took me to the theater often, and it was there that I fell in love with her voice. Her voice was unlike anything I'd ever heard before. It was so full of passion, and fire, and feeling, that listening to her sing transported you to another world entirely. It swept you up in a current of emotion, flipped you upside down, and then deposited you back in your seat, wanting more. Her performances in film were equally captivating. She knew exactly how to work the audience, making them completely forget they were only watching a movie. She was amazingly talented.

Not to mention how attractive this girl was. I had had my suspicions that I was gay before I went to go see Rachel perform. That performance of Spring Awakening, however, removed all doubts left in my mind. She had beautiful, clear, brown eyes, shiny, long, chestnut hair, and legs that were way too damn perfect for such a small person. I'm not even going to mention the fact that this girl has curves in _all_ the right places.

_And_ she was openly bisexual. Score.  
Even as perfect as she was though, Rachel Berry was never one of those celebrities that had a giant ego. She was talented, and she certainly knew it, but it was widely known she cared greatly for her family and friends, and would never forget the ones she loved.

Thus began my epic crush on Rachel Berry.

The woman in question, however, was sitting across from me, looking more and more uncomfortable. Still feeling a little bit starstruck (okay. A lot bit starstruck), but genuinely concerned for her, I ask, "Seriously. What's wrong? You look super uncomfortable."

She looks up at me from where she had been staring at a spot on the carpet. She considers me for a moment, then shakily replies, "I- I don't like elevators. I rode it today because of all the presents, but I get really claustrophobic and I start to freak out a little."

"Oh…Damn." I reply. She nods and then returns her gaze to the carpet. I mentally smack myself. _Nice going, Fabray. That was an incredibly helpful response._

I take a deep breath and try again.

"Hey.." She looks up again. "My best friend is actually scared of elevators." This was true. "Whenever he has to ride one, we all distract him so he doesn't have to think about it." She looks skeptical, but interested enough for me to continue. "You just need a distraction."

She stares at me for a second, then replies, "Okay…what do you recommend?"

I think for a moment. "Okay, so, tell me a story." I say, moving closer to where she sits. The skepticism is back.

"Tell _you_ a story?" I nod.

"I promise. It makes your brain work harder than me telling you a story. Just try it."

She takes a deep breath, keeping her gaze on me. "Okay. So…um… once there was a girl named…" she pauses. "What's your name?"  
"Quinn." I respond. "Quinn Fabray."

She is silent for a moment, then, quietly, "Quinn. That's pretty."

"Thanks." _Fuck, am I blushing?_

She smiles at me, and continues with her story. "Once there was a girl named Quinn. She lived in a land where everything was made of candy."

"I like this story already." I quip, drawing a smile from her. _I made Rachel Berry smile. Fifty points to Quinn._

"She lived in a castle made of candy canes, and was very happy. Until one day an evil witch came and kidnapped her. The witch locked her in a tower and got a…giant armadillo to guard her."

I nod my approval. "Perfect. Then what? Did she get rescued?"

"Not yet" Rachel replies, smiling again. While she's definitely still tense, she looks noticeably more relaxed. She's stopped tapping her fingers on the carpet, and she seems to be getting into her story. "Quinn was stuck in the tower for five years, dreaming of the day she would be rescued by a handsome prince."

For a reason I can't explain, I cut in. "Princess."

She stares at me. "What?"

"Quinn gets rescued by a princess." I repeat. She says nothing, still staring at me, but after a beat, she bites her lip, then says, "Okay. Princess."

I nod.  
"Years go by, and no one is worthy enough to defeat the armadillo, because his armor is as tough as iron, and the tower is so high. One day, however, a young princess comes into the clearing where the tower stands, and walks straight up to the armadillo."

Again, impulse takes over. "What's her name?" I ask.

She tilts her head and stares straight at me, not blinking. "Rachel." She replies. The lip bite is back. _Jesus._

I swallow, trying to ignore whatever _that_ just was, and gesture for her to continue.

"Princess Rachel walks up to the armadillo and as soon as he moves to attack her, she starts to sing. As she sings, the armadillo stops in his tracks. Her song builds and builds until finally, the armadillo is completely under her spell. She climbs on his back, and using her song, makes him climb the tower. When she gets up to Quinn's window, she climbs through, to find Quinn sleeping in her bed."

At this point in the story, I'm trying very hard to not notice how attractive Rachel is. This whole distraction thing took an unexpected turn, and now I'm not sure what to do with myself.

Rachel seems to be on the same page, because she is looking at me, trying to gauge my reaction before she finishes the story. I see the indecision in her face before she continues. "So Rachel wakes up Quinn and together they climb out of the tower, where they escape and live happily ever after. The end."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. She opted for the safe ending to the story. That was probably a good thing. Instead of dwelling on this, however, I smile at her and say, "Wonderful. You should write books."

She grins, replying "I had good characters." I choose not to reply to this statement, instead trying to think of something else for her to do.

"So." I say, my mind searching for ideas. "Now tell me about your day."

"My day?" She arches an eyebrow.  
"Yeah, or you know, whatever you want." I'm struggling. _Eloquent, Fabray. Well done._

"Something else for you to think about." I get an idea. "Ah. Twenty Questions."

She shrugs her shoulders. "Okay. Who goes first?"

"I will," I say, "but rules, first. You have to be honest, but you can refuse to answer a question. Let's just go as long as we can. Ready?"

"Ready."

"Okay. Chocolate or vanilla?"

She smiles, clearly not anticipating such a simple question. "Chocolate. Sweet or Sour?"

"Sweet. Action movies or Chick Flicks?"

"Chick Flicks. Oreo Cookies or Oreo cream?"

"Cream"

* * *

We continue like this for the next forty minutes, Twenty Questions gradually lapsing into general discussion about ourselves. I learn that she likes gummy bears, sunrises, and mangos. She learns about my cooking habit, my addiction to crime TV shows, and my preference for cities over small towns.

She has now totally relaxed, the fact that she is in a broken down elevator the farthest thing from her mind. I also absently notice that the distance in between us has also gotten smaller as we've talked, to the point where my knees are now touching hers.

We both notice it, but neither of us pulls away.

She throws back her head and laughs when I tell her my most embarrassing moment (getting stuck in a tree on my 20th birthday. Long story. Don't ask.), and I tease her about her fear of mice. ("They're like _this _big. How are you scared of mice?" "They always come out of nowhere, and they have weird little pink feet. I hate them.")

I don't know exactly how _she's_ feeling at this point, but my crush on Rachel Berry has grown remarkably large within the past hour. We get along incredibly well, our discussion unforced and natural.

We just… click.

I can't remember the last time I felt this comfortable with someone. My movie-star adoration has completely disappeared; now I'm just in awe of the woman herself.

She's just finished telling me about a disastrous trip to the zoo she went on with her fathers when the emergency call button lights up and beeps again. A voice comes through the speaker.

"Hello?" It's a different voice from last time, male again.

We both hurriedly stand up, and I make my way over to the panel in the wall. "Hey!" I reply when I'm close enough. "Do you have a repair team ready yet?"

The voice responds, "Yeah, hey, listen…about that…" I roll my eyes in anticipation of his response.

"Finn, that guy you talked to earlier, he's an intern, and he didn't really check the charts right…it's still going to be another hour or so before someone comes to help you guys."  
I look over at Rachel. The past hour has definitely helped calm her down, but I can see some tension starting to return to her face.

"Quinn, I don't think I can make it that long." she says in response to my look.

"Uh, hey, listen," I say, turning back to the speaker. "My friend here is claustrophobic, and she's already had about all she can take in here. Is there seriously nothing else you can do?" I see Rachel shoot me an appreciative smile.

The maintenance guy is quiet for a few seconds, but then he responds. "Well, there's an emergency lever on the top of the car. If you flip it, you can open the doors and get out. If you really can't wait, one of you can climb up there and open it."

I look at Rachel. The hopeful look on her face tells me all I need to know. "Okay, we'll try that. Thanks."

"No problem. Keep me updated."

"Will do." The light switches off again. Rachel and I look at each other, then up to the roof of the car, where a trapdoor sits several feet above our heads. "So." I say, running a hand through my hair, "How strong are you feeling, Ms. Berry?"

She looks confused. "Why?"

"I need you to lift me up so I can get up there." I respond.

"Oh." She seems surprised. "Why do you have to be the one to do it?"

I quirk an eyebrow at her. "Well, primarily, because if Rachel Berry falls off an elevator and dies, it'll be much more tragic than if Quinn Fabray falls off an elevator and dies." As she opens her mouth to protest, I hold up a hand. "But also, you're dressed nicely," I gesture to her skirt and heels, "While I'm wearing this." I point to my t-shirt and running shorts. "Much better for climbing around elevator shafts." She contemplates this for a second, and then nods.

"Okay." She says. "But you have to be careful."

"Really? I had no idea." I deadpan. She smacks me lightly on the arm. "Ouch! The abuse!" I whine playfully.

She doesn't dignify this with a response, simply glares at me and moves to stand under the trapdoor. I grin, and as soon as she's steadied herself as a base, I step into her outstretched hands and leap upwards. My hand connects with the door and pushes it open, my fingers finding purchase on the edge of the opening as I fall back down.

"You need a hand?" Rachel asks from below me as I hang from the ceiling.

"Nope. Got it." I reply, and pull myself up and through the hole. It is dark in the elevator shaft, and I hear the sounds of machinery all around me. About five feet away, there is a large, red lever coming out of the floor. _Well. Hopefully that's the one._

I walk over to it, trying really hard not to look down or focus on the fact that I'm 27 stories in the air. Kneeling down, I pull the lever, and I hear things moving beneath me. I crawl back over to the trapdoor to see Rachel beneath me. "Did it work?" I ask.

She nods. "Well…mostly."

I frown. "What do you mean, mostly?"

She gestures towards the doors. I stick my head back into the elevator and see what she's referring to. The elevator has stopped halfway between floors. The doors are open, but there's only about a 3 foot gap at the top where the floor begins. "Huh. That's a problem." I say. I stand up again, then bend down to grab the edge of the opening. I swing my body through the trapdoor, and lightly fall to the ground. I walk back over to the emergency call button and press it again. The response is immediate this time.

"Did you get it?" The man asks.

"Yeah", I reply, "but we're going to have to climb out…it's halfway between floors."

"Oh yeah," he says, "I see that. "Well, we'll send a guy up to 27 to pull you out, okay?"

"Thanks." I reply, and the line goes dead. I turn to Rachel. "Well." I say.

"It's been quite an interesting afternoon." She replies.

"Still glad I held the elevator door open for you?" I tease.

She smiles. "Surprisingly, yes." I smile back. She bites her lip again, and looks away.

A beat of silence.

She looks back up at me. "I want to thank you." She says quietly.

"For what?" I ask.

"Talking to you…it really helped calm me down. For some reason…I feel really comfortable around you." She's looking at the carpet now, and it seems she's trying to make her mind up about something.

"No problem," I reply easily. "This was actually one of the best afternoons I've had in a while."

She looks up at me.

"You know," she begins, taking a step toward me. My breath hitches at the look in her eyes. "Maybe I need to change that story." Another step.

"W-what story?" I ask. _Really Quinn? You're stuttering now?_

"The one about the princesses." Her voice has taken on a soft, breathy tone, and she's still coming closer.

"Oh?" I say, with an attempt at nonchalance. My heart is racing.

"Mm." she replies. All of a sudden, she's right in front of me, and I'm having trouble remembering how to breathe. She's a few inches shorter than me, so she's looking up as she takes her fingers and brushes a few strands of hair out of my face. She's almost whispering now, and I can feel her breath on my face. Our lips are centimeters apart. She smells like mango and mint.

"It looks like Quinn saved Rachel after all."

And then our lips meet and any kind of intelligent thought I might have had is wiped from my mind. Her lips are so soft, gently pushing on my own. They're not demanding, but the pressure she applies lets me know they're there. She tilts her head a little, causing her lips to graze over my own, and that's when I lose it completely. I gasp, pulling back for only a second before leaning in again. My fingers find her face, traveling up her jawline before gently threading through her hair, as hers come up to wrap around the back of my neck. I pull her closer and kiss her harder. She inhales sharply and bites down lightly on my bottom lip. A soft moan escapes my lips. She smiles into the kiss, and I can tell she's proud of herself.

Just as I'm about to reciprocate, however, we hear a noise.

"Ahem." Pulling myself out of my kiss-induced haze, I look up. It's the maintenance guy come to help us out, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably. We separate, though not too far, as my side is still pressed into hers. She loops an arm comfortably around my waist. A smile creeps across my face at this.

"I'm so sorry sir, we didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Professional Rachel was coming out and taking control of the situation. This was good, because I wasn't actually sure I could speak at the moment, if the butterflies in my stomach were any indication.

"Uh, no. It's totally fine." The guy said. He too, was being professional. "Just come over here and grab my hands and I'll lift you guys out. Rachel obliged, giving me one last glance before reaching up and allowing the man to pull her through the gap. Given her attire, she did this surprisingly gracefully, and once she was through, she turned around and kneeled next to the man at the gap.

I bent down and picked up a few presents from the floor, handing them to her one by one. Once the floor was clear, I reached up and allowed the maintenance guy to lift me out as well.

"Are you two alright?" He asked. He seemed to genuinely care about our well-being, which was sweet of him. Rachel flashed him her award winning smile, and I saw him visibly stand up straighter.

"Yes, thank you so much. We're fine. We're grateful for your help."

"Well. That's good. Uh, I guess I'll get going."

By this point I had regained the power of speech, so I thanked him too, and watched him disappear down the hallway. Once he was out of sight, I turned to Rachel. She seemed to be waiting for me to speak. She seemed almost…nervous? _I make Rachel Berry nervous now?_ It had definitely been a weird day.

"So." I said, slowly.

"So." She repeated.

I took a deep breath. "I just want you to know that I don't normally do…that."

"What?" she smirked. "Make out with strange women in elevators?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Yeah…well. Yeah." I smiled back at her. "This whole afternoon's been kinda crazy."

Now she was fidgeting. "So…um, good crazy, or…" she trailed off, staring at the floor. _Grow some balls, Fabray._

I took a step forward, closing the gap between us, and taking her hands in mine. She looked up at me, hopeful. "Definitely good crazy." I said firmly. She smiled, then leaned in to kiss me lightly on the lips.

When she pulled back, she asked, "So, could I maybe see you again soon? Like, tomorrow?" I smiled at her.

"Absolutely. Let's get these presents upstairs, and then I'm all yours."

She quirks an eyebrow at me. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Ms. Fabray."

I grin. "I would never, Ms. Berry." She smiles back at me. We gather up all the presents from the floor, and slowly head towards the door marked "Stairs", talking all the way. It had certainly been a wonderfully crazy afternoon.

I got the strangest feeling it would only be one of many.

**Review and let me know what you think!**


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